Alfons did not move.
Her words hung between them, heavier than the pale light bleeding through the windows.
A vision. And he was in it.
It was the last thing a sane man wanted to hear from a Nocthar heir standing in his bedroom, least of all one who had just laid out how her sight fed on mana, blood, and futures that had yet not arrived.
He lowered his hand from the door, slow. "Then tell me what that means. You saw me somewhere ahead of now, and I would rather you tell me whether I should be worried than try to soften it for me."
Selendra watched him, her crimson eyes giving back nothing he could use. "Good or bad, I cannot promise you either. I do not see verdicts. But I can give you one thing with no dressing on it. In the vision, you were alive."
He held her gaze. "And that is supposed to settle me. That I had a pulse."
"It is the only comfort I can offer that is not a lie."
